


Dance, Dance, Baby

by butt_muncher_seven



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Blood and Gore, Casual Sex, Fighting Kink, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Jesse McCree, Trans Male Character, egregious abuse of Super Soldier SerumTM, light abuse of power, maybe even moderate Gabe should know better, poor understanding of military terminology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9547358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butt_muncher_seven/pseuds/butt_muncher_seven
Summary: So everyone had a crush on their commander. That's fine. Guy had his shining personality and hours of drills to help them overcome that.But then Reyes had to go andsaveJesse like hematteredand fuck, there's just only so much good judgement and sore muscles can do.  Fortunately there's always bad pop music and worse beer to help him get over it. Or make things way, way worse.





	

Jesse crept silently along the hallway, moving towards command point Bravo with the rest of his three man team. Reyes and the larger Foxtrot crew would be dealing with the terrorists holding the school hostage in the gym; it was Jesse's job to take out the one's on break in the staff room. It was a pretty straightforward op. They'd made quick, silent work of the guards posted outside and breached the perimeter unnoticed. Assuming they could make contact at precisely the same time, no hostages would be hurt and Blackwatch wouldn't get any media attention at all for this. 

The main hall was around the corner, no one on guard. Perfect. Liao signalled for them to split around the door, guns up and ready for him to blow the door down. Jesse had the pin on the stun grenade out, safety clamped down and ready to throw. Liao was tensed, waiting for the count to come through from Foxtrot when a terrorist unexpectedly rounded the corner behind them. The woman shouted in surprise before sprinting off in the direction of the gym. Liao cursed and sent Amanda to run him down with her sabre, swift and silent, but it was too late. Gunfire could be heard far away, which was very, very bad. The staff room door slammed open and then it was all hell broken loose. Jesse’s team ran for cover while taking advantage of the brief bottle neck afforded by the door. He’d managed to get out of sight behind a locker bank. Liao and Sung, caught between Jesse and a school-full of children, were answering Reyes’ call for help.  
“Just do that mystic shit, cowboy!” Liao shouted as he sped off. Fine. Jesse pressed his back to the wall, eyes scrunched closed, concentrating hard. He couldn’t always pull this off, hadn’t quite picked out the pattern of what worked yet. _Sun. Desert wind. Red mountains._ Bootsteps drew close and Jesse sprang out, four men in his sights and four men down, clean as a hound’s tooth. No more shooting could be heard elsewhere in the building. Job done. Jesse stood alone among the dead and smiled. 

Reyes barked his name from behind and Jesse spun, just in time to see a fifth terrorist raise his gun. Time slowed pointlessly. This was it. At this range there was no missing, no chance to draw or run but then - roaring, Reyes collided with the man like a freight train. They landed heavily, Reyes on top and already swinging. Once, twice, three times Reyes punched the man brutally in the face, until he was no longer so much resisting as spasming, and still Reyes kept hitting him. Blood was on his fists and face and bared teeth as he pounded the man's skull into pulp like it was soft fruit. Jesse had never been more turned on in his life. He swallowed hard as Reyes tipped his head back to catch his breath with a relieved chuckle.  
"Almost thought I'd lost you there."  
"Y-yeah. Me too."  
Reyes sauntered over to where Jesse stood, still breathing hard, and clapped him on the shoulder with a bloody hand.  
"Better get back to the transport, I'll wrap up with the local authorities."  
"Yes sir."  
"And Jesse?" McCree turned back.  
"Good work tonight." He gestured at the bodies lying neatly dead. "Looks like your aim's getting even better."  
Reyes smiled, genuinely warm, and turned back down the hall. Jesse's stomach flipflopped. Shit.

 

Jesse spent most of the ride back in unusual silence, reliving the sight of Reyes beating a man to death with his bare hands for him. The raw power of it, the anger, the deadly deadly focus that kept Blackwatch safe and the rest of the world nervous spending itself keeping Jesse alive. It was intoxicating. Jesse imagined himself having gone over to the commander, tangling his shaking hands in his hair and kissing him with blood still staining his beautiful mouth. Maybe dropping to his knees before him, running his hands over those thick, strong thighs, taking Reyes into his mouth still sweaty from fighting. Letting Reyes hold his head in place, part caress and part demand, using his mouth until he came. It was a useless, familiar fantasy; virtually every recruit went through a phase of pining after their commander. Jesse had hoped he was done with that by now. Life was so much more convenient when he wasn't blushing after every compliment Reyes gave him, wasn't biting back inappropriate thoughts whenever Reyes corrected his firing posture. And yet. Here he was, wet and aching in the back of a stealth transport like he hadn't spent months getting over that crush. 

 

When they landed, Reyes headed for HQ and the team went straight to the base Blackwatch bar, shedding tac gear as they went. They would have gone regardless, but tonight they were in a celebratory mood. Missions without casualties or injuries or morally questionable actions were rare and spirits were high.  
"This must be what Overwatch feels like all the time!" Amanda was gushing as the crowded into the bar.  
"Big damn heroes." Liao agreed. "Think they got tipped?"  
"Nahhh. We operate pretty separate."  
"Good. Morrison'd do his nut and then we'd have to step around their pissing match all week."  
No one had to clarify who 'they' were. The feud between Reyes and Morrison was legendary. Liao had it ten to one they were fucking, but that didn't seem to cover half of it. The best days for everyone were when they worked with a taut civility; the rest of them were hell. 

Someone pulled down the post-mission bottle of whatever-the-hell liquor was smuggled in that week and tossed round the shotglasses. They knocked the shots back together, some coughing and spluttering a bit, and beat their empty shotglasses on the bartop twice in unison. It was a ritual that had been around as long as Blackwatch, a sort of way of marking that what was done was done, and done together. 

After that the beer was handed out, mostly cheap Polish lager from over the border. The radio was turned on, just loud enough to make conversation have to compensate. They laughed and drank and traded kill counts. At some point "the American song" came on, as it often did, and the whole bar called it out. Jesse allowed himself to be shoved towards the bar counter along with Paul, feigning reluctance as he climbed up. It was a deeply American cowboy anthem that had caught on in Germany recently, and Jesse unironically loved it. Somehow everyone else loved making the Americans dance to it and so here he was, standing on a bar top singing along with the crowd and swinging his hips like it was rent day. He wasn't exactly good at dancing but the point was more amusement than titillation. Jesse tore his shirt off to laughs and jeers, tossing it away dramatically as the chorus swelled. His hands roamed his muscled torso, playing at sexiness. Tonight he went a step even further, unbuttoning the tops of his fatigues and letting his pants slip low on his waist. He grinned at the hoots and hollers, holding onto his cowboy hat with one hand and grabbing his crotch with the other. He accepted a beer from the crowd, letting some spill down his chin and trickle down his chest. The song ended and Jesse joined Paul in flexing his arms and trying unsuccessfully to get a chant of "USA! USA!" going. 

Still laughing, McCree retrieved his shirt and pushed into the washroom to wash the beer off.  
"Nice moves, Jesse."  
McCree froze at the sight of Reyes casually soaping his hands up at the sink. He must have missed Reyes coming in. How much had he seen??  
Jesse settled for feigned cockiness, a common fallback.  
"Just entertaining the troops sir, improving moral with my beautiful body as best I know how."  
Reyes grunted in amusement and cast an appreciative eye over McCree's still bared chest. "They'll need it. The Strike Commander is displeased with our actions." Reyes said delicately. Jesse grimaced. That boded ill for all of them. They were briefly silent as they both busied themselves at the sink. Reyes kept glancing over as Jesse splashed water over his pecs, letting it follow the same path the beer took, hopefully cleaning something. The attention turned Jesse clumsy – he fumbled his shirt twice getting it back on, and it clung to his torso where it was wet. Reyes’ furtive look turned to an outright stare. 

Now lacking a reason to stay near his commander in the men’s room, Jesse turned to leave, bumping into Reyes. “Oops, haha.” They misstepped around each other, caught close. Jesse was extremely aware of how visible his nipples were through his shirt. He bit his lip and caught Reyes’ eye, a wild grin creeping over his face.  
“You know, I never got a chance to thank you for saving my ass back there.” He risked putting a hand lightly against Reyes’ hard chest.  
“Yeah?” Reyes’ voice was smoky with promise. He crowded Jesse’s personal space, hands coming up to loosely hold Jesse’s hips.  
“Heroes don’t need rewards.” There was a seriousness to his tone despite the smirk. Reyes held Jesse’s gaze steadily. Shit. He’d overstepped. _Shit_. Reyes brought a hand to hold Jesse’s chin, brushing a thumb over Jesse’s lower lip. “There’s no need to offer me anything you don’t want to give.”  
So _that_ was all it was. Well in that case.. Jesse flicked his tongue out to catch Reyes’ thumb. “Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy them.”  
Reyes sucked in a breath. “Ohh, I’m a bad, bad, man.” He bent down to kiss Jesse, pressing them flush together. Reyes was still in his tight black mission shirt, all hard and fit and faintly sweaty. Jesse wasted no time in hooking his fingers into Reyes’ waistband, which, shit, fuck. He could _feel_ how hard Reyes was through his jeans. He groaned into the kiss, pulling his commander backwards until he hit wall. 

Reyes crowded him in, huge and warm, strong hands pulling at his body. Jesse let himself drown in it for a moment, dizzy with being held. Reyes was pulling at his hips, grinding down. Jesse fought both hands between them to pull open Reyes’ fly. He reached in between cotton and hairy skin to pull out Reyes’ cock. It was thick and hot and Jesse couldn’t resist pumping his fist up and down, slow and tight. 

Reyes slipped a hand into Jesse’s pants, fingering him with something like gentleness. He slid through his labia easily.  
“Fuck, you’re wet baby. That all for me?” Reyes laughed.  
“Naw, it’s just from beating your kill count earlier.”  
“That does it for you, yeah?”  
“Oh yeah.”  
“That’s gotta be, what, every couple years? That’s not healthy, baby. Gotta clean the pipes more often.” Reyes laughed, slipping a thick finger inside Jesse’s cunt. Jesse’s head hit tile jerking back but he hardly felt it, desperately, incalculably hungry for Reyes’ cock inside him. He started jerking Reyes’ cock faster at the thought of it.

“Hey boss, so” Jesse licked his lips, mouth slightly dry. “Paulie got them playing Super Smash so we’ve definitely got, like, 5 minutes here.”  
“Yeah?”  
“Wanna make them count?”  
Reyes looked back over at the closed door. “Shit, yeah, okay.”  
Jesse hurriedly ripped off his left boot and pant leg, letting his pants pool awkwardly around his right ankle. Good enough. Reyes lifted Jesse easily, hands under his thighs holding and spreading his legs. Jesse braced himself between the wall and his legs around Reyes’ waist. He couldn’t help grinding against Reyes’ front a bit. He _wanted_. With some shifting Reyes got all of Jesse’s weight on one arm, only slightly impeded by Jesse rubbing himself against him. He positioned his cock roughly and sunk in.  
“Oh, Jessito, cariño.” The sweet slide of it was indescribable.  
Reyes started thrusting, ridiculous supersoldier muscles holding Jesse up like an afterthought to pulling him down on his cock. Jesse stopped trying to help out and let himself go along for the ride. The thick patch of curls around Reyes’ cock rubbed delightfully against Jesse’s clit - really the whole affair was shaping up to be the best bathroom lays of Jesse’s life. Maybe even top ten overall. Reyes pulled Jesse’s head down and kissed him hard, the rhythm of his pistoning hips growing slightly frantic. This seemed like a lot of kissing for a random quickie, but what the hell. Reyes was good at it. His mouth was surprisingly soft against his, almost tender. Jesse drank it in. Even when Reyes broke away, panting slightly with the desperate force of his thrusts, a firm hand kept Jesse’s face pressed in close. By then Jesse was too close to coming, all other sensation dulled against the growing pool of heat in his abdomen. The heat of Reyes’ breath, the scrape and pull of his clothing, the unyielding grasp of his hands on Jesse’s body all blended into insignificance. He clenched around Reyes, barely hearing the grunt of approval as he came in measured gasps. He sagged and let his forehead rest on Reyes’ shoulder, feeling pleasantly drunk with it all. Reyes let out a quiet noise of desperation, thrusting in once, twice more before coming silently. His whole body went tense as his cock pulsed inside Jesse. 

Jesse stroked a hand lazily up and down Reyes’ back as they caught their breath for a moment. Then, too soon, Reyes was pulling out and setting Jesse down. Reyes tucked himself back in and straightened his clothes while Jesse stuffed his foot back in his pants and boot. There was a hint of tenderness in Reyes’ gaze as he brushed Jesse’s hair back in order and placed his cowboy hat on his head. 

“Don’t stay up too late, chico, muster’s still at seven.” He tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.  
“Sir, yes sir.” Jesse replied lazily, still slouched against the wall. Looks like life just got a bit more interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Gabe stop sleeping with your second-in-command it's not professional.


End file.
